Sirius
by Aural Sex
Summary: A man sets out to find out who he is with nothing to help him but a charismatic journal entry from eight years ago. A story. Reviews appreciated.
1. Awakening

Journal entry: August 4th, 2002

My mom gave me this journal today. I turn ten tomorrow, which means I get to leave on my own pokémon journey, and she thought it would be a good thing for me to have. I also got my first pokémon today, though I'm not allowed to open its pokéball until tomorrow.

That wouldn't be a problem if I could _sleep_. I'm not an insomniac or anything, I'm just _way_ too excited to sleep.

I probably sound like every other ten-year-old kid out there. I mean, I know I'm not special or anything. I don't come from a distinguished line of trainers; my dad was an electrician here in the city and my mom is a pokémon breeder. The only famous person in my family is my mom's mom, Bertha, and I hate her with all the one hundred and nineteen pounds of my body. In that way I guess I don't really have any great aspirations for myself, but I _do_ have one thing: a love for pokémon. That's why I've decided to go through with this journey.

It's not like I didn't have other options; when I was eight I was offered a full scholarship to Oakley Academy, the second-highest rated private school in Sinnoh. I was good in mathematics but excelled in English, a trait they seemed to pick up on. My mom pushed me to go. She insisted that I didn't have to go out on an adventure like all of the other kids – that I could have a perfectly fulfilling life as professor or a researcher, though I wouldn't even consider it; I'm sure I won't be the best trainer out there, but I can certainly be _one of_ the best. It's that belief that's gotten me here. And I think it's that belief that's earned my mom's disappointment.

Well, I can't say for sure she's disappointed, but her eyes certainly convey that message. Who really knows? She might just be scared of letting me go.

I can't really blame her – we lost my dad three years ago, something that shook us both up, but more her than me. I loved my dad, but his death _devastated_ Mom – she wouldn't leave the house for an entire _month_ after that (I remember because I had to do all the shopping). I'm not sure why it affected her so much more than it did me; maybe it's because I only knew the guy for seven years while my mom had been married to him since they got out of high school? Don't get me wrong, I loved Dad, but, well... there's no "nice" way to put this, so I'll just say it: I guess his death just wasn't that great of a loss.

I wish I had been writing with a pencil so I could erase that.

_I'm not even the least bit tired._ I keep yawning here and there, but I'm pretty sure that's just due to boredom. It's kind of a good thing my mom gave me this to write in, even if I only end up using it this once, at least it's helped me pass the time.

Which has been... ten minutes. Great.

I'm never going to make it to the Pokémon League at this rate!

I think I'm most excited to see the pokémon I got. I wonder what kind it'll be? Maybe an eevee; that way, I could potentially fill any gaps in my team later on. Then again, those are kind of expensive and rare...

What about a bulbasaur? They're really friendly and perfect for beginners, or so I've read. Come to think of it, most of my knowledge of pokémon is based off of things I've read or seen on television. We have a pet pokémon around the house, Skitty, but other than her I don't think I've ever known another pokémon.

Way to dig myself into a hole, huh?

I guess I don't really "love" pokémon, then. Maybe I'm just fascinated by them.

Fascinated... yeah, I think that's the word.

Hey, what do you know? I feel kind of tired now. I think I'll try to go to sleep.

Well, I'm not quite sure how to end this... goodnight, self.

–Sirius

Movement I

Awakening

In the back of the Pokémon Center a man had just awakened; though young, his eyes and face were lined with experience. When one such eye opened, so did a story begin.

He had no idea how he'd gotten to lay in that bed or how he even came to be in the first place. The room around him was sterile and white, the air was brisk and clear. Frost covered the window to the man's room, something he recognized as "snow".

A crippling wave of nausea hit him as he began to understand that he was _alive_ and _breathing_, existing somehow in this somewhere when all he had ever known was nothing and nowhere. He could remember only blackness, as if his entire life up until that point was spent locked in a windowless room.

And, figuratively speaking, he wasn't far off.

He sat back in the bed, pillow against his back, feeling the warmth of the body heat he had transferred to the sheets when he previously laid in them. He slowly came to realize that this reality – this state of consciousness – was real.

Overwhelmed, he fell back to sleep.

When he again woke, he was in his original position. This stirred some feelings of stress within him, though he tried calming his nerves by reassuring himself it must have just been the work of a nurse or doctor. He was surprised he even knew what those two things were, having had no luck with himself.

He again sat up and this time swung his legs around the side of the bed, letting his feet dangle inches above the floor. The room contained a rusted sink, a door presumably leading to a bathroom, his bed, a flat-screen television suspended on the wall and a curtain with a floral pattern.

As he exhaled his breath became slightly visible between the temperature of the room and the light pouring through the window. When he saw that he realized how cold he really was, and tried layering up in the two cloth hospital sheets on his bed. They did nothing to help, so he stood to go in search for warmth.

As soon as he stood he almost fell over; he had to at first sit back down and then gently lift himself onto his feet until he once again got the hang of balancing on two legs. With that obstacle overcome, he proceeded forward only to be halted by a second trial: he was intravenously connected to an extensive amount of machines and bags of colored fluids.

He at once ripped these cords from his arms leaving tiny crimson spots where the needles had previously been. He was further surprised to recognize the red substance as "blood".

Having known _blood_ and _snow_, he decided he hadn't just been born – no, instead he must have had no memories of himself. He searched the back of his head, fingers combing through matted auburn hair, for any signs of trauma; there were none. Defeated, he sat back on the bed.

He wasn't suffering from amnesia as he didn't appear to have been hurt or even bandaged anywhere. His head felt fine as did the rest of his body, aside from his freezing feet and an empty stomach. He briefly toyed with the idea that his whole life had been spent asleep and he had just woke up for the first time; he dismissed this idea when he realized he couldn't have recognized snow or blood unless he had previous experience with such things, experience unattainable through sleep.

Where there had once spouted an overwhelming nausea now grew an equally intense frustration: if he wasn't suffering from amnesia and he hadn't been asleep in his entire life, _who was he_?

Suddenly the flowered gray curtain opened, the rings suspending it to the bar above rattling as it did so, giving the man a tremendous shock – though perhaps not as great as the surprise painted across the face of the woman who had entered.

"My nurse told me you finally woke up but I had to see it for myself," the brunette in the white lab coat remarked, approaching her patient.

He desperately wanted to speak, to ask all the questions racing through his mind, but he couldn't find the words. He instead found his mouth hanging agape like that of a slowpoke.

"Take it easy, sit back – are you cold? I can have some more blankets brought in – no wonder you're freezing, this room is an ice box!" The doctor rambled on without stopping to take a breath, circling the bed the man had been laid up in.

"I–"

The doctor whipped back around, hearing her patient's voice for the first time. "Yes?" she bid him to continue.

"...W–Who am I?"

The doctor pursed her plump lips in thought, scratching the back of her head. "We were kind of hoping _you_ could tell us that," she replied.

Heartbroken, the young man slid back into his original position on the bed and watched the snow fall outside.

"Wait here, I'll go get you some blankets." And just like that, the first person he had ever met – or remembered meeting – left.

She left the curtain open, allowing the man a view into the rest of the facility: there were many other beds like his, but their occupants were almost exclusively pokémon.

Pokémon was another word he recognized; though he wasn't exactly sure what it meant, it triggered many emotions when thought of.

"Pokémon..." he repeated out loud, mining the rich vein of feelings he'd just unearthed in hopes of finding clues as to his own identity.

The doctor in white returned with three sets of toasty-looking blankets, much to her patient's delight. A short, oblong pokémon followed her into the room. He recognized this shapely creature as a _chansey_.

"Here you go – just what the doctor ordered," she chirped happily, giggling at her own joke. The young man couldn't understand why she was laughing but graciously accepted the blankets, piling them on top of his frozen figure.

The doctor looked through the clipboard in her right hand, flipping through pages of paper while whistling. This action made her patient nervous, though the chansey moved over and tried to comfort him by rubbing his arm.

"Oh, that's right!" Suddenly, the doctor remembered something, "We still have your clothes and bag in storage. Perhaps your things will jog your memory?"

"My... things?" he queried, weakly studying the robust pokémon beside him. He soon connected the meaning of her use of the word 'things' to _belongings_, something that perked him up instantly. "I've got things here?" 

The nurse looked back at her clipboard a second time, her eyes moving from right to left along a single line of text. "Yep," she replied, "looks like you were brought in along with some clothes and a bag; the contents of the bag were never checked."

Excited, he sat up instantly. "Can I see them?"

The doctor nodded and directed her helpful assistant, to retrieve the man's belongings. When the chansey left the doctor began with her questioning.

"So, you have no memory of who you are?"

"N–No," he replied, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his things.

The nurse began writing something on a fresh leaf of paper attached the face of the clipboard.

"I see," she started, her pen still moving rapidly across the paper, "...and is there anything you _can_ remember?"

"I... I can remember _things_. I don't know how to explain it, really, but I remembered words like _blood_ and _pokémon_. I can remember what these things are but not what they mean to me or what part they've played in my life," he replied, displaying rapid improvement through his lucid speech.

The doctor was silent for at least another two minutes, writing down everything her patient was saying. When she was finished, she dropped her right arm to her side and tapped her chin with the end of her blue pen, "Well, this is no regular case of amnesia – at least, no amnesia _I'm_ familiar with. Then again, I _am_ a pokémon doctor, not a people doctor."

Before he could release a discouraged sigh the chansey had returned, struggling under the weight of the man's clothes and backpack. He hopped up almost immediately and took them from the helpful pokémon, placing them on the bed.

"I'll give you some time alone. I have some patients to check up on so I'll get back to you in a little bit," she announced, spinning on her heel almost exactly 180 degrees and walking back out of the room. Her chansey followed, closing the curtain as they left.

Alone with these things they said belonged to him, he began digging through the bag. He found mostly changes of underwear and socks, a few empty plastic balls that were dually red and white, and at the very bottom a notebook. He hurriedly fished it out and sat on the bed while placing it on his lap.

It was a plain, suede-covered black journal with a bronze clasp. He removed the clasp and opened it to the first page, where but a single word was written: "Sirius".

"That helps..." he muttered to himself sarcastically, turning the book to the next page. It is upon these next few pages he found a very sloppily written journal entry for the date August 4th, 2002.

He ripped the curtain open and pulled a nurse aside who was walking by innocently, "What's the date today?"

"Ah, erm, I believe it's the..." she stopped to check a peculiar mechanic watch on her wrist, then replied, "yep, the 17th."

"Of?"

"February..." the nurse replied skeptically.

"What year?"

"Look, is this a joke? Because I–"

"WHAT YEAR!" he repeated, exasperated.

"...I-It's 2010..." she answered, eyes wide and glassy. She turned and quickly hurried off to the far end of the center, as far away from the man who had just assailed her as possible.

He sat back down in disbelief.

"2010... this was written _eight years_ ago? By _me_?"

Momentarily pushing away the thoughts rushing through his head, he read the entire entry to himself – then again aloud. He stopped at certain lines that caught his interest, pieces of information that might help him to find out who he was. He learned that he was born and raised in a city and lost his father rather young, and that he had a famous grandmother (that bit would definitely be pertinent, if she was still alive) that he wasn't fond of. He also had a mother that was still alive (as of eight years ago) and a fascination with pokémon.

He turned the page that completed the entry, hoping to find more – but that was the only entry in the entire journal.

"Have I been asleep all this time?" He stared at the journal before him, it shook between his nervous palms. He jumped up and tossed it to the ground, refusing the truth it held.

Eight years! One couldn't possibly sleep that long, if he had in fact been sleeping at all. And what about the years before that? What memories allotted themselves that span of time?

He fell back on the bed and muffled intense screams with his pillow. When his throat burned too much to even speak he let up, removing the pillow from his face and taking a deep breath.

Eight years – no, _eighteen_ years – spent and forgotten. How?

He retrieved the book from under the radiator it slid beneath, dusting its cover off almost ritualistically. Again, he opened it and stared at the word _Sirius _written on the first page.

No, not a word.

A name.

And the only name he had.

He toyed with the idea that the name truly belonged to someone else, if it _was_ a name, and the owner of that name would come and beat him for taking it. A few more silly thoughts ran through his mind before he drifted off, once again, to sleep.


	2. Order and Resplendence

**[[A/N: **"BlukBerry" was coined by Blakeface – not me. He gets the credit.**]]**

Movement II

Order

Somewhere far to the east of the pokémon center a battle was taking place, one between two unlikely candidates: Cynthia, the champion of the Sinnoh region, and Bertha, a member of the elite four.

The two rarely battled each other – once when the blonde-haired black-clad Cynthia had first challenged the league, and a second time after that for practice. Though their battles were few and far between, they proved increasingly epic with each installment.

This battle ended in stalemate; Cynthia ordered her garchomp to burrow underground, hoping to turn Bertha's strength against her, but her foe's hippowdon shook it off with a powerful earthquake attack. Garchomp proved to have strength enough to come up from the ground and blow hippowdon onto its back, though it fainted immediately afterward. The two women recalled their pokémon at the same time, leaving a great earthen space between the two.

The champion approached Bertha with an indescribable smile on her face; this smile managed to pack the entire being of Cynthia – her strength, her knowledge, her grace – into a single, inconsequential movement, while igniting the hearts of all those it touched. No such smile wore Bertha's face, however, as she stood so akin to the steady ground she wielded.

"I'd forgotten how strong you were," the champion began, searching her senior's pain-lined face for any signs of movement.

Bertha was, for a good while, still – until, finally, she broke into her signature ear-shattering cackle. "That's not the girl I remember," she reminisced, "the one who marched up to me two years ago with an unshakable determination, a determination that made the very earth under me go soft."

"Perhaps it's not the girl – it's the woman."

Bertha again laughed, this time more out of defeat than actual humor. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, Cynthia _was_ a woman now. The girl she'd taken in as her granddaughter was becoming more and more like her daughter every day.

The champion, on the other hand, couldn't comprehend Bertha's strength; how could one old woman who had lost everything – her husband, her only daughter, her grandson – move forward with such _momentum_? Though far be it from her place to question it.

Just then, Cynthia's BlukBerry went off, vibrating against the outside of her right thigh. She dug it out of her coat pocket to see she had just received a text message from Snowpoint City's gym leader, Candice.

_Deer Champion Cynthia, plz come 2 snowpoint ASAP_

Although she had repeatedly told the gym leader that they were friends and she didn't need to refer to Cynthia as "champion", she let it slide due to the urgent nature of the message.

She almost never got a call from Candice, and when she did it was either an obsessive rant about her infatuation with the elite four's Aaron or a new pair of shoes she bought. Something told Cynthia this was different. Much different.

"Where's the _woman_ off to now?" Bertha mused, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets.

"Snowpoint, apparently."

Bertha broke into a laugh once more, "You're rather ill-dressed for Snowpoint City, aren't you?"

Cynthia shrugged, "I don't plan on staying."

She waved good-bye to her colleague and set off down the stairs.

Westward laid Snowpoint City and a small gathering at Lake Acuity. Leader Candice was there, as were a few police officers; one in particular, a blue-haired woman with striking red lipstick and black pumps, stood out.

The female officer and the younger gym leader were conversing when the champion arrived, carried by her faithful togekiss.

"Champion Cynthia!" Candice exclaimed, rushing to the side of her idol.

Cynthia recalled her sizable pokémon. "Candice, you don't have to call me champion..." she repeated for the eighteenth time. "We're friends, right? Friends call each other by their names."

Candice swiftly turned from Cynthia and remarked to herself, "_I'm_ on a first name basis with the champion? That is _so_ cool!" She again spun around to meet the blonde's eyes with her own, grinning furiously, "You're right, I'm sorry."

The champion shook it off with a warm smile. She turned her attention to the water of the lake, at the center of which a prominent cave was visible. Having spent most of her life studying the mythology of Sinnoh, Cynthia was well aware of the Lake Acuity legend.

The lake water seemed to move on its own, fighting against the cold that bid it turn to ice. "I see. Something's happened here," Cynthia acknowledged.

"Yeah, but that's just it – we don't know _what_," Candice began, turning to face the lake, "people in town complained of a haunting by froslass last night, which is around the same time the lake started acting weird." She stopped for a moment, allowing Cynthia to absorb everything she said. She then promptly whipped out her cell phone, "Hey, check out my new phone – it's _iceproof_!"

The woman in black nodded faintly, taken aback slightly by the last comment. "That's really nice, Candice," she smiled weakly before returning her attention to the lake.

The female officer approached the two, "What do you think this is, Cynthia?"

Cynthia crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her left leg, "Something's disturbed the sacred pokémon of this lake."

"Team Galactic?" Candice chimed in, trying her best to be helpful.

The champion shook her head. "No, this scene doesn't stink of failure or avarice. Nor is it something natural..." she trailed off, her eyes fixed on the aggravated water. "It's my guess that someone obtained a private audience with the pokémon here."

"Someone like who?" Candice tilted her head tactlessly.

Cynthia shrugged and smirked at the gym leader, "That's something I'll trust you with uncovering."

The Snowpoint City gym leader nearly died of excitement, "_Me!_"

Cynthia chuckled inwardly and nodded, once again releasing her togekiss.

"Wait, you're leaving already?" Candice whined, her bubble deflated.

"I'll be back; I have an investigation of my own to begin," she replied coolly, mounting her pokémon. She waved to the two women and took off in an instant.

Nearly thirty minutes later, the champion arrived in the quiet town of Celestic, greeted only by the refreshing smells of the meadow to the east. She recalled her loyal chauffeur and proceeded to enter a nearby house.

"Cynthia!" exclaimed a small blonde girl from across the room; she looked almost like a carbon copy of the taller blonde. She jumped out of her wicker chair and hugged the new arrival forcefully.

"Hello, baby sister." Cynthia embraced the child, kneeling so that they were roughly the same height.

The younger sister released her grip and looked to her older sibling expectantly, "Did you bring me something this time?"

The champion stood and removed a wooden pokéball from her coat pocket. She handed it to her knee-high sister with a smile, "Open it."

She did so, carefully pressing the center release module with her index finger. It popped open to reveal two precisely painted wooden figurines – a gardevoir and a gallade – dancing valiantly around an intricately designed clockwork movement in the center. As the two carved pokémon danced about each other so did a small tune play from the bottom of the ball, where nine miniature holes were drilled to make room for a small speaker.

Overjoyed with her gift, she again threw her arms around her older sister's waist. "It's beautiful, Cynthia – I love it! Thank you!" she managed in a single breath before cheerily running up the stairs to her room.

That prompted a shrill, bossy voice from the kitchen, "It's been too long, Cynthia."

She smiled and sauntered into the kitchen, taking a seat at the very cramped dining table. "Hello, grandmother."

The sun rapidly set, filling the kitchen with a surreal orange glow. Cynthia's grandmother quickly placed a long, metal baking tray into the oven and kicked the oven door closed with her foot. She sat opposite Cynthia, removing her oven mitts and facing her granddaughter with a smile.

"I take it you didn't stop by because you smelled my cooking," the old woman broke the silence.

Her granddaughter stared into the distance, contemplating the earlier scene at the lake. "Grandmother," she met her eyes, "why would one seek the sleeping pokémon of Lake Acuity?"

The old woman folded her hands in her lap, looking to the ceiling thoughtfully. "Lake Acuity houses the being of memory, does it not?"

"You've taught me that much."

Her grandmother was silent for a while longer, briefly entertaining a wide array of ideas. Eventually, she spoke, "If one were to seek the power of the pokémon of that lake _specifically_, they must want what only _that_ pokémon might grant."

Movement III

Resplendence

It was late into the evening, as light now poured out from the windows of the pokémon center as opposed to in. Again painfully awake, Sirius sat up in his cramped hospital bed. He'd been sitting in the thing for what felt like so long he half expected to be covered in bed sores, however irrational the thought was.

He was now fully clothed, his outfit complete with worn brown hiking boots, damp blue jeans and a black down jacket; the hospital gown that initially adorned his pale frame was cast off into the far corner of the "room". It wasn't so much a room as it was a partitioned section of a greater area, the only separation being that of the increasingly hideous-looking curtain. It appeared slightly less hideous when a familiar female face broke its floral pattern.

It was the face belonging to the doctor from earlier, the doctor he had failed to learn the name of.

"Doctor, am I free to leave?" he questioned flatly. He looked ready to leave at any minute, his bag slung around his right shoulder.

"Well," the doctor began, rubbing her chin cautiously, "this is a _pokémon_ center, so we really don't have any protocol stating we have to keep you. Still, I wouldn't suggest–"

Before she could attest, Sirius was up and walking passed her. She walked quickly to match his pace as he moved toward the lobby of the center, "I wouldn't suggest walking out in the middle of the night without having anywhere to go or even any _memories of yourself_."

He didn't respond. Her logic was sound, he couldn't deny that; still, it didn't feel right to just be sitting around in an emergency room when he could be actively pursuing said memories. Even if he didn't have an idea of where to start.

She finally managed to stop him and pulled a folded sheet of paper from her coat pocket. "At least take this," she insisted, handing the paper to him. "I did some research after we spoke earlier, this is what came up."

Sirius quickly unfolded the paper and strained his eyes to read what it said. After a few minutes of silence, he faced the doctor with a puzzled expression, "Lake Acuity?"

"Everybody around here knows the legend," she stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's just a silly myth, but it _is_ a little weird when they drag in a guy from the lakeside who can't remember a thing about himself."

Sirius refolded and pocketed the paper, "When was that?"

"Last night."

He was now forced to face the realization that he'd only been out for about a day, something that completely nullified his theory of having been asleep for years. "Where is this lake?"

"It's just west, you can't miss it – _hey!_" the doctor called out to her patient who was again on his way out of the center. "We have some free rooms still available, you can stay here for the night and check it out tomorrow," she pleaded, hoping he wouldn't actually trudge out through snow and darkness on some Arceus forsaken witch hunt.

"Will they still be open later?"

The doctor shook her head, "Well, I don't know – _probably_ – it depends on if any other trainers show up."

"Then I'll be back," he stated and left the center.

As soon as the sliding glass doors shut behind him he regretted his decision; the wind was moving rapidly, perhaps even quickly enough to cut exposed skin in its wake, and the temperature was at least thirty degrees lower outside than that of the already brisk hospital. An infinitely foolhardy determination propelled him westward.

The tough part wasn't getting out of the city – the real challenge laid in the city's outskirts, where veritable hordes of sneasel and snover fought over territory. Luckily enough, none of them went for Sirius, being too enthralled with their own squabbles.

Even so, he couldn't deny the feeling of ice-cold eyes on the back of his head; though he forced himself not to look back. Something was watching him and perhaps even following him, but as long as it kept its distance there wouldn't be a problem.

Or so he hoped.

The further he walked the more he began mentally kicking himself; he couldn't believe he was stupid enough to traipse through a frozen forest filled with vicious ice type pokémon without a pokémon of his own to defend himself. He might not have retained any memories of his own life, but he was somehow familiar with the concept of pokémon battling; he knew he should have had protection – he thoroughly searched his bag before leaving the center but he apparently owned no pokémon of his own. He furthermore had no idea where to get one at such a late hour, or even how he would go about doing such a thing.

Sirius then remembered back to the journal entry – he should have had at least one pokémon if that journal was right. Then again, that _was_ eight years ago.

The whole situation perpetuated feelings of frustration within him, feelings he hoped to son be rid of. That was his purpose in venturing to Lake Acuity so late. According to the piece of paper he was given by the doctor, this city – Snowpoint City – was famous for its lake, Lake Acuity. The lake itself was famous due to a surviving legend, a legend of a pokémon capable of erasing one's memory completely.

It fit too perfectly to be ignored.

The man soon found himself upon the edge of the famous lake's waters. Snow covered every inch of this area as well, even though it was rather secluded and protected by trees. It was dark and the water was violent; refractions of light through the rolling waves decorated the waterside.

"Now what?..." Sirius mumbled to himself, all at once feeling like an idiot. He had no plan of action, no itinerary; he could only stare helplessly at the monolith rising from the center of the lake. At the base of this monolith, where it met the water of the lake, a dark cave mouth was visible. If secrets would be hiding anywhere, it'd be in the darkness of an island cave.

Suddenly, from the darkness of the opening, a figure emerged.


	3. Undulation, Retrospective and Clockwork

**((A/N:** I'd say I'm sorry for the delay, but I doubt anyone was waiting for an update. If you were waiting, however, I _am_ really sorry. I've also rectified the few spelling errors in the previous chapters.**))**

Movement IV

Undulation

Sirius strained his dark brown eyes to discern what _exactly_ had just appeared from within the cave only for it to vanish moments later.

Its disappearance could be best attributed to the boisterous new arrival which shouted, "You're back!"

He instinctively turned to meet the face of a girl around his age but a few inches shorter; her hair was short, red and cut almost rebelliously; perhaps most peculiarly, she looked something akin to an astronaut. Be that as it may she would prove herself to be more grounded than her more traditionally-clothed counterpart.

She was standing firmly between Sirius and the only route of escape.

Sirius couldn't do a thing but size her up for the next few seconds, only to realize his silence was putting an awkward strain between the two. "I – uh – have we met?"

She crossed her arms, revealing three pokéballs latched to the hem of her rounded skirt. "You don't remember me? That hurts – _I'm_ hurt." A hint of mockery hid behind the monotone of her voice.

He looked down at his feet almost apologetically, "It's just–"

Sirius was interrupted by an unnerving laugh that suddenly erupted from the redhead opposite him, "You really _are_ clueless, aren't you?"

His eyes again focused on hers. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," she folded her arms behind her back and nonchalantly sauntered to the water's edge. A second silence ensued, broken only occasionally by the cutting of wind against dunes of snow.

"Mars."

"What?"

"My name," she turned around with an empty expression, "it's Mars."

Sirius nodded lightly, taking in the name – now that he heard it from her, the name _did_ sound somewhat familiar, even if he entirely failed to place it. This person seemed to have at least known him briefly in the past – perhaps she would be the key to unlocking his memories.

His train of thought was derailed by her sudden, piercing interjection, "He says he'll forgive your _traitorous_ actions if you hand over the–"

A decisive command came from above, "Aura sphere!"

Immediately after, an incandescent white orb shot down from the sky and landed between Sirius and Mars. It exploded on contact, sending the two parties in opposite directions.

Sirius dropped his bag in the scuffle and quickly scrambled to his feet to reclaim it. No sooner did he get his hands on it did he feel another pair of hands on the back of his jacket, lifting him up into the air. He soon found himself atop a flying pokémon he recognized as a togekiss, behind a blonde woman camouflaged in night.

Mars's eyes turned vicious, shifting between the woman and Sirius. "_You_ – didn't we take care of you?"

The woman didn't respond. Instead, her pokémon geared up to fire off another attack.

Mars fixed her gaze on Sirius. "You'll regret this," she warned, tongue bladed. With that, she was gone in a flash of light that emitted from a device locked to the palm of her hand.

When the light cleared, the blonde woman ordered her pokémon to land, setting both her and Sirius on the ground. No sooner did they land than did Sirius seize the opportunity to accost the blonde woman.

He stumbled over to her, forcefully grabbing the fur collar of her black coat in his hands. "Why the _hell_ did you do _that_!" he demanded, voice faltering and hands shaking. She'd successfully scared away that "Mars" woman, the only person who had recognized him _all day_.

Cynthia briskly removed Sirius's hands from her coat and pushed him back, causing him to stumble and fall into the snow. He immediately sat upright and shook the snow from his hair like a wet jolteon.

"What are you doing here – and with _Team Galactic_ of all people?" she retaliated.

The words _Team Galactic _registered with him, engendering within him a veritable maelstrom of emotions; the two most prominent being anger and betrayal. Still, he could not remember what the term meant – or, more specifically, what it meant to _him_.

"I don't know what Team Galactic is," he replied irritably, getting back to his feet.

"Answer my first question."

"I..." he dug into his pocket and whipped out the paper given to him by the doctor. "...A pokémon resides here, one with a power over memories. I thought this being would be able to restore mine – not that I owe _you_ any explanations."

Cynthia quickly pieced it together; Uxie had not control over memory, as was commonly misunderstood, but the ability to induce _oblivion _if it felt threatened. If this man was claiming to have no memories it would've been likely that the legendary lake pokémon had some hand in that. It would further explain the earlier disruption of the aforementioned lake and the ecosystem revolving around it.

"You don't remember anything?" she repeated, making certain his disposition.

"If I did I wouldn't be here."

That much made sense – what _didn't_ was the activity of Team Galactic. "Why were you–"

"What do you care?" he bellowed, his voice trembling with frustration, "What do you even _want_ from me? You just scared away the only person that knew who I was, and probably–"

"You _knew_ this woman?"

Sirius kicked the mound of snow in front of him in agitation, once again finding himself answering the woman's questions. "Maybe – I don't know. I don't _remember_," he stressed the last word, casting his gaze away from hers.

It was beginning to come together. His activity in the area prompted that of Team Galactic. Still, what connection did the two have? She didn't imagine this man would be the most helpful in uncovering that, perhaps more due to his attitude than to his amnesia. Then again, she could only imagine she'd feel much the same way if she were in that position.

His voice ripped her from her thoughts, "Who are _you_?"

She circumvented him and mounted her pokémon, who was obediently waiting by the waterside. She motioned for the man to sit down behind her, "Someone that can help."

Sirius turned his face downward, staring at the snow as if it held the answers to his questions.

"Are you coming?"

His exasperation finally caught up with him, boiling in the pit of his stomach. "I don't have a choice, do I?" Disdainfully, he trudged over to the togekiss and sat behind her. The pokemon was up and off of the ground with three flaps of its powerful wings.

The snow-topped trees of the forest moved so quickly underfoot they seemed to blend into each other, creating a sea of green and white. This soon turned to actual sea, barely visible against the darkness of the night, as the two flew off to the northeast.

"Where are we going?" Sirius's voice was rolled flat with defeat.

"Somewhere you'll be safe."

Safety entailed the prospect of danger – one he wasn't entirely fond of. "So, what, I'm in trouble now?"

"You _did_ manage to antagonize that Team Galactic member."

Sirius viciously bit back the urge to rectify her statement, his curiosity instead prevailed: "_What_ is Team Galactic!"

"A group of eccentric criminals," she responded, eyes unmoving.

It then hit him all at once: Mars implied they had worked together, hadn't she? She referred to her boss as _theirs_. If he worked with Mars at one point, and Mars was a part of this criminal ring – was this blonde carting him off to prison?

"How do I know you're not taking me to jail?"

Arguably not the most intelligent words out of his mouth.

"Should you be in jail?" Her reply was quick and biting.

He shrank in his position behind her – a change of subject would do nicely here.

As his thoughts ran wild, they kept returning to Mars's semi-final words; who was _he_? And what did _he_ want? Sirius owned nothing more than the clothes on his back, his bag and the black journal within it. If this Team Galactic wanted something from Sirius, it must have been something _more_. He retrieved the journal from his bag and flipped it open to its first and only entry, nailing the old pages down with his fingers so they wouldn't be ripped away by the wind.

It was then, scanning the lines of scribbled text that dotted the page, that he remembered something he'd thought of earlier in the hospital, "Do you know anyone named Bertha? She's supposed to be famous, but I don't know if she's still alive."

Cynthia's eyes flashed with surprise – he couldn't be referring to _her_ Bertha. "Why?"

"Supposedly I have a pretty well known grandmother named Bertha. I figure if she's as important as this thing says she is, someone ought to know her."

It was as if jigsaw pieces rained down from the sky and fit perfectly together as they hit the ground. Cynthia wasn't so much holding her breath as it was she couldn't collect it, but she finally managed to get out one last question: "Do you remember your name?"

An exhausted sigh slipped out from between Sirius's chapped lips, now more sure than ever that was truly his name. "Sirius."

Movement V

Retrospective

Bertha was the elite four's silent hero. Aaron spoke fast and Flint spoke a lot, and sometimes Lucian even got out a few words about a book he'd just read. Bertha was different, but more than anyone else she had reason to be different – to be silent.

January 13th, 2009 was no different. Bertha was silent. This time, however, Cynthia felt an unimaginable sorrow emanating from that quiet. It wasn't a silence of choice, rather one of grief. Cynthia decided she would confront Bertha about her most recent muteness. They were all but family, of course.

Cynthia watched Bertha's final battle of the day from the balcony of the earthen amphitheater. She watched as yet another foolhardy trainer with her entire future ahead of her was stopped dead in her tracks by a master of the very ground she tread. The challenger rushed her injured partners to the league building's pokémon center to prepare for a rematch the following day while Bertha's pokémon exerted such little effort that a simple nap would have had them back to one hundred percent.

"That was great! Your pokémon never cease to amaze me," Cynthia shouted from atop the balcony as she made her way down the stairs to the rocky arena.

As expected, Bertha said nothing. With every step Cynthia took in her direction, Bertha shrank deeper and deeper into a silent safe haven.

"You don't need to speak. I know you well enough to assume you probably wouldn't anyway," the Champion began, in an uncharacteristically apologetic tone, "but I know you're hurting, and–"

"There's nothing you can say to salve my soul, child." With that, Cynthia was instantly shut down and cast aside like nothing. "You know so much, yet you've experienced so little... knowledge is a treasure, yes, but without _experience_," her words, like the final measure of a concerto, dug exponentially deeper into the soul with every passing note, "it is utterly baseless."

Cynthia was indeed knowledgeable, though she was even more so a master of chess. She knew that once she got Bertha speaking she could fulfill the quiet role herself while Bertha shared with her the very experience that made her sagging skin so heavy. So, Cynthia remained silent, waiting for Bertha to "enlighten" her.

"I've experienced many things, but through all of it none of my knowledge has done me any good. I was left alone to experience the agony of outliving every person I ever loved: from long ago losing the husband I made a life with; to the grandson I made a life _for_; right down to the precious daughter that I gave my heart and soul to. Today is the day, Cynthia, that I've finally seen the last of these people swallowed by the earth itself."

A woman left with nothing was perhaps the most dangerous woman imaginable. At the same time, however, Bertha wasn't dangerous. She was lost and alone. She was, in every aspect of her being, silent.

"I'm sorry," was all Cynthia could muster, though she knew full well those two pathetic words would do nothing for either of them. She instead allowed her curiosity to overwhelm her, "Your daughter – how did she...?"

"She took her own life. The news that her boy had died on a pokémon journey she never bid him pursue... along with the death of her husband several years prior, it was just too much."

More silence ensued, until Cynthia again spoke up: "What were their names?"

"My sweet child, Alice... and her son, Sirius."

Movement VI

Clockwork

If Cynthia had been driving a car, she would've stopped short and likely killed them both. Luckily they were traveling by way of togekiss, a vessel that doesn't come with built-in brakes.

"You're alive..." was all she could muster.

Sirius looked down at cover of his old black journal, now more confused than ever before. "I'm supposed to be dead?"

"She thought you died last year. They both did."

"_Who_ thought I died!" he demanded, his whole being a melting pot of frustration and exasperation ready to boil over.

"Your grandmother, Bertha. She was devastated that she had lost you and your mother–" she quickly silenced herself, but not quickly enough.

"My... mom?" His heart stopped and, in place of blood, sheer sorrow filled his veins. He couldn't remember her face or even her name, but the mere mention of his mother – of the _death_ of his mother – was enough to shut him down.

The two said nothing for the remainder of the flight. The pokémon league building quickly came into view and within minutes they had landed outside the brilliantly lit building. Cynthia bid her togekiss return to its ball and the two entered the building. All the while, Sirius couldn't shake the familiar feeling of cold eyes watching him intently.

The league pokémon mart was closed for the night but the pokémon center was open, like all others, 24 hours a day. Only Nurse Joy's smiling face greeted the two as they entered. Sirius relaxed as soon as they stepped into the building; again, he wouldn't be able to tell you why, but he knew this place wasn't a prison.

"Do you need anything, Champion Cynthia? A room for your guest perhaps?" asked the nurse.

"That would be great, Joy. But you don't have to call me champion..." Cynthia fiddled with the lining of her black coat modestly.

Sirius was caught up in his own thoughts, but heard enough of the conversation to learn the name of the blonde champion. The nurse pulled a key out of a drawer and tossed it to Cynthia. The champion caught it gracefully and offered a thankful smile to the nurse before taking the man by the hand. She led Sirius into an elevator labeled "2", which took them up to the twelfth floor of the building. She dragged him to the fifth door on the right and handed him the key.

"You'll be sleeping here indefinitely," she announced with authority. She opened the door which swung open to reveal a comfortable, hotel-like room. "We have a lot of guest facilities, mainly for competitors who want to spend the night before hitting the road or for those who want a rematch later."

"Who the hell said I wanted to stay here?"

Cynthia shook her head, "I thought you went to the lake looking for answers?"

"Yeah," he replied flatly, the thought of his mother still hanging heavily over his conscience.

"Bertha's here, meaning your answers are probably here as well."

Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin at her last remark, "Wait – my grandmother's _here_! Can I see her?"

"It's late and she's retired for the night. You should really do the same."

Defeated for the moment but undeterred overall, Sirius stumbled into the room and sat down on the bed. He turned his gaze upwards to face the champion.

"What?" asked Cynthia.

"Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"Positive," she replied. She studied the solemn look on Sirius's face before smiling and offering, "Sleep well."

He shot her an unreadable glance before she closed the door to his room and disappeared down the hallway. He swung his legs up so that he was laying on his back and closed his eyes. Sleep soon came over him.

Not long after all the lights had gone off in the pokémon league building (with the exception of the pokémon center at the very base of the building), the shadows along the far wall of Sirius's room began to shift.


End file.
